Kiss Kiss I'm a Guy
by Pianolote
Summary: Osamu Canovello is a total stud- or at least in his head he is. In reality he's an egotistical girly looking fellow that has no ability in reading social cues and a really bad case of protagonist unluckiness. Total parody not to be take seriously at all ever.
1. Prologue : The Root of My Hate

**Prologue : The root of my hate.**

* * *

My name is Osamu Canovello, and I am a stud.

When I walk down the hall, both women and men alike flock towards my _shining manly presence_.

I am _showered_ with the _many gifts_ of _my many admirers_.

What ever I say is right, and _I am worshiped like a god_.

I _rule_ this school.

The world is my _oyster_ and _everyone loves me_.

and

That's how it _would be_ if that _dumb host club_ _never existed_.

I ignored the teacher droning about equations and formulas, letting it fade into the background as a faint white noise. Instead I allowed my head to be swarmed by thoughts of irritation and ire. A soft breeze floated my way though, snapping me out of my anger laced mental introduction. Wait a minute how the hell is it breezy in here all the windows are closed-

Oh wait. It must be them.

I glance downwards towards _them_ from my seat by the window, placed in the back just like a true anime protagonist.

Glaring out said window, I look to find a hosting an event outdoors. Of course it was _them_.

There, a group sat on a picnic blanket, not only excluded from class for the day, but surrounded by giggling girls. The group was made up of handsome guys the whole school knew.

That damn, stupid host club.

Said stupid Host Club was doing a stupid tea ceremony of some sort instead of stupid classes because they got special privileges. I can only assume they get all these exemptions from rules due to nepotism. Lots and lots of rich and privileged nepotism. If only, I think wistfully as I harden my look of pure hatred, that idiot I'm required to call my father granted me such privileges. Instead _I_ get a crummy apartment. Someone as perfect as myself shouldn't have to be put through such trials when that stupid club of stupid teens weren't.

The group starts to laugh, and I wonder if I can sue these jerks for having such a good time when the great me isn't. Their repulsive laughter snaps me out of self pity, and I began to instead compare myself to the so called socialite elites, just as a way of reaffirming my superiority.

My gaze focused in on the leader of the club in particular, examining his blond locks and comparing them to my much more fashionable hairstyle. I looked at the Hitachiin twins and imagined my own much more talented acting skills. I made my way to Kyoya and mused over my amazing ability to rock glasses despite not needing them. Examining all the girls, and thought about how many of them would have flocked to me if these jerks weren't there.

A stray flower pedal from their presence fluttered through the window (again what the hell the windows were closed) and onto the floor, just out of my stomping reach.

Perhaps if I glare at it hard enough it will spontaneously combust.

With the thought I turned back to the hosts. Maybe if I glare at them hard enough they'll spontaneously combust.

Because they are the problem. Not my long lashes or slim figure or long braided hair. It's not me that's deterring my studliness.

It's them. _Really_.

My name is Osamu Canovello, and I am totally a stud.

* * *

Dear reader, you may not know this, but one must work hard to maintain their studliness. They must always be perfectly groomed, and shrouded in mystery and coolness. They must always have something witty to say, and always be confident to the point of narcissism. And sometimes, a stud must do something a little extra to keep up their reputation.

For me, that means finding a way to destroy and or plan the suspicious and sudden deaths of the host club.

Hence my current spot behind this wall, following after the dumb blond that has taken my spot at the top of the food chain. Not stalking him (of course not; I'm tailing the guy in hopes of finding his weaknesses, not to steal locks of his hair and hang them up in a make shift sempai shrine) but still eyeing him never the less. And the steadily growing crowd of ladies around him.

That damn Suoh looked so smug, all roses and compliments and "princess" this and "dearest" that. Teeth bit down on my lower lip as I clenched my hands into slow fists as even more girls came up to the already crowded male to chat with him.

And in my hazy anger, I am pushed aside _by even more girls damn it_ and fall backwards, hitting something hard before falling onto the ground.

Or hitting someone it seams, if the impatient tapping of a foot my my head is anything to go by.

Crap.

Looking up from the well-polished shoes, I found a pair of slim legs followed by a pair of beautiful hips and then a well-toned chest. Above that was a slender neck and then a stoic face, the only sign of expression in one slightly lifted perfect eyebrow behind _glasses_. oh god glasses that means-

Instantly regretting every decision I've ever made ever (because if anyone knew I had been stalkin- no, just following- Suoh it would be this demonic looking fellow that may actually be the literal devil), I began to covertly crawl backwards. Maybe if I pretend I was just excited to see him, he'll decide I'm just one of the girls that worship that dumb club or whatever and more importantly _spare my soul_.

Instantly I flinched at the blow to my manly pride. What _was I thinking assuming I could even remotely be mistaken for female?_ How could this day get any worse?

(I shouldn't have even though such a dangerous phrase; the universe surely heard it)

"You're Osamu Canovello, yes?" He observed coolly, as if I wasn't a total mess on the floor. "I think we should have a talk."

It got worst.

Damn my need to be the superior stud.

* * *

 **So this is basically a satire of every oc story ever, in case you haven't noticed. But rather then a girl faking it as a boy alongside Haruhi, or a Girl as the 'first hostess", or just a straight up boy joining, we have the lovely Osamu Canovello- a** **pompous egotistical "stud" who has the unfortunate luck of being blessed with girly features and constantly being mistaken for a girl despite him identifying as 100% dude. And then he becomes a hostess. Because that is the top quality kind of fanfiction people want to read in this day and age am I right?**

 **...right?**

 **Anyways, this is intended to be in no way taken seriously, and perhaps will never update again. Maybe It'll update tomorrow. Who knows.**

 **Anyways, shout out to Teddy for giving me this lovely idea in the first place- because using long and drawn out author notes that no one actually cares about for my own personal "thank yous" is important and essential to writing a fanfiction. Am I right? Right?**

 **... no seriously.**

 **Anyways, see you perhaps eventually, at maybe O'Clock.**


	2. Chapter One : Terminate the Host Club!

**Chapter One: Terminate the Host Club!**

* * *

OPERATION OBSERVE AND TERMINATE HOST CLUB; DAY 0

Now dear readers, I'm sure you are on the edge of your seats. Last we left off, the beautiful me was stuck at the feet of the literal devil, and everyone probably wants to know how I used my superior intellect and natural good looks to escape this horrible luck.

But because I'm currently living in the moment, I'm not sure how I did it yet. But I totally will.

And no, this isn't just a coping mechanism I'm repeating to myself to deal with the fact that I'm half sniveling, half begging for forgiveness, at the feet of the bespectacled member of the stupid host club.

No self respecting stud would ever.

 _Ever_. End of story.

Instead of dwelling over what I currently was and wasn't doing, I quickly formulated a plan, glad the glasses was patient enough to wait while I pulled myself together- I mean, got together a solid plan.

Ok, so I'll hear out what he wants to say. I'll avoid and deflect any accusations of stalking (because it's _not true_ ). And with my incredibly talented manipulation skills and charm, I'll confuse him so he doesn't realize I'm getting closer each day to destroying his stupid club.

Finally with a brilliant plan in mind, I tried to make eye contact with the devil, asking in a voice as sweet as I could muster to someone I despised. "Yes?"

He gave me a strange look (or I think he did. He wears thick glasses. I have no idea why anyone finds said glasses attractive). "Are you not going to get up off the floor?" he asks, a mix of confusion and amusement lacing his voice.

I smirked, for my plan was already working. Step one of tricking the enemy was getting them really confused.

Exactly as planned.

But even though it was a great plan, I decided staying on the floor wasn't worth it and sprung up, dusting imaginary dust off of myself to play it cool. Because dusting yourself off when you've fallen on objectively the cleanest floors of any high school ever is the textbook definition of playing it cool.

"I meant to do that." I inform the glasses smoothly.

The raised eyebrow from before made another guest appearance on his face. "Meant to run into me? Or meant to stay on the floor long after you've regained your wits. That is assuming you have any."

Now if I was any lesser person, I would have dramatically gasped at that comment. I would have then proceeded to take a back hand to his face and storm away, beginning a love hate relationship that would make me have to mark anything afterwards Osamu X Glasses. Which is gross. So no.

Instead I put on a blindingly fake smile and looked at him through squinted eyes, expression a mix of charming and constipated. Scratch that last part; just charming.

Charming like a _real_ stud. (or perhaps like a 'gentleman" or, dare I say it, "host". But I'd never say it. That'd be gross too. Ew)

"Yes." I reply, earning another look of confusion. _Exactly_ as planned.

He adjusted his glasses, almost awkwardly, before addressing me once more. "Anyways, I couldn't help but notice how you always seem to have your eyes on the host club."

Oh man he's going to accuse me of stalking isn't he? Think of step two Osamu, think of step two. You're just observing for weakness, not stalking. Not obsessing. Nope. No lawsuits here glasses, thanks.

"Are you by chance interested in one of our guests? Or perhaps one of our hosts?"

Any retort died in my throat instantly, choking me and I gave glasses a startled look. Was he crazy?! Ew! No! Sure there are some ok looking guys in the club but no, host club equals enemy not love interest nope. I'm way out of those stupid guy's leagues anyways. They couldn't be with a stud such as myself, they just weren't as amazing as the superior me.

But before I had the chance to inform the stupid Satan host that even thinking about his suggestion was repulsive (if I was any less of a protagonist I would upchuck on the ground like the main joke in a cheesy Disney Chanel original movie), glasses nodded thoughtfully.

"The club is open for anyone, regardless of gender." he mentioned.

My smile strained to stay planted on my face. "Perhaps I'll stop by sometime..." I say with a nervous chuckle, before cursing. Damn my impulsive mind!

Trying to spin what I just said in my favor, I realize something- It'd be a lot easier to spy upon the hosts in their natural environment, would it not? And then- then I could find out all those hosts dirty secrets and shut down the club for good! Yes, it was genius! The perfect plan!

Kyoya, witnessing the emotions that went with my internal soliloquy gave me yet another confused, almost worried, glance. I ignored it.

Spinning on my heel, I snicker to myself as I begin to walk away from him. This was going even better then I imagined! The host club won't know what hit them!

* * *

OPERATION OBSERVE AND TERMINATE HOST CLUB; DAY 1

 _The day is young, and I expect this will take time, but for my plan to begin, I must first infiltrate the club._

My hands shake as they reach towards the doors that lead to my enemies, irrational fears of deportation if found out echoing though my head. And although I do love Italy (with their fashion and food and beautiful people that aren't annoying as hell), I can't leave Japan until my mission of being the most handsomest in Ouran Academy is complete. Yes, that is the mission now; roll with it.

Anyways, hands shaking. Deportation. I'm a bundle of nerve, apposed from my usual confident self, determined to make a good impression to earn their trust.

And then the door opens with a blinding sparkle coming from within.

And flower petals float around in elegant circles around me.

And _crap they're approaching faster then I thought!_ My eyes watered as my hands clenched my neck, something lodged in my throat _._ Ack! I got one _in my mouth_!

I fall to the floor, choking on a rose petal as the host club stares at me, like the'd never seen a guy accidentally swallow aesthetics before. Pounding my chest frantically, I spit out the now crushed and damp red flower petal, and slowly stand up from the fetal position I found myself curled into.

Brushing my pants, I turn to the club with a smile plastered on my face, blasting it at 100 watts. Buddha, that hurt. Pretending the pain wasn't there, I turn to the hosts.

"What's got you all choked up?" ok, not the best phrasing. Crap, play it cool. "Aren't you going to welcome me?" I ask in the deepest voice I could manage at the time. Totally cool, mind you.

The group before me breaks out into hushed discussion. Rude. The red headed twins are the loudest, and I can clearly hear the 'are they really going to pretend that didn't just happen' 'what the hell just happened' they asked each other between giggles and snorts. The glasses devil whispered to the small child and the robotic looking one with the dead eyes, probably about all my life secrets and about how best to extort me. The only one not participating in hushed conversation was that blond idiot. In fact, he was still staring straight at me, a look of- oh god _no._

Was that pity? Oh god no! He's approaching me! I'm going to catch idiot with a tragic backstory disease if he gets any closer. No, NO, ABORT MISSION.

His hands grasp around mine, and I feel something important die inside. The blond glares back at his friends, a frown on his face, and I almost was flattered as he defended me from his friends.

"How could you guys be so cruel to a _lovely princess_ such as this?"

Almost. Instead, I was disgusted with the power of a thousand suns. Because what the hell did he just call a super stud such as myself?! Excuse him. No, I will not be calm damn it! FEEL MY RAGE-

* * *

OPERATION OBSERVE AND TERMINATE HOST CLUB; DAY 2

 _Ok, so the dumb ass host leader thinks I'm a girl. It's cool. I'm cool. Everything's cool._

 _No its not who am I kidding._

I'm now a chick (and how dare that blond bastard I am manly as hell) in the eyes of my sworn enemies. Worst, thanks to that idiot, I caught tragic backstory disease!

After making a run for it (because what else could any sane person do in that situation it isn't just me being dramatic come on) I come home to my crummy apartment, just to find my useless father on my broken couch watching too much Korean drama and in tears.

Being the offspring of that man truly is a tragedy. The only thing I was proud of in my gene pool was my lovely mother. And now she's dead, so thanks Suoh. You killed my mom by giving my character the need to be relateable to the reader.

Really, thanks.

After sending my father back to his own home (the one he kicked me out of damn it what the hell dad) I had to rest.

Today's going to be better though. Today will be the day I get closer to becoming the studliest man in Japan. Determination spread through me as I finished reflecting on my thoughts, and final walked through the school gates I had been staring at for the past half hour.

Time to sort this all out.

I strut into the school. And the first thing I run into was the blond and glasses.

Before I could flee they recognized me, and Suoh automatically takes my hands in his own again.

Another small part of me withered and died, much like the flower petal that once clogged my breathing pipe.

The blond's eyes were shining. Demon lasses was grinning. I contemplated murder.

But then _he_ got close to my face, and pulled a rose out of nowhere.

Terror ran through me. Oh _hell no_.

"You ran off before we could exchange names, princess." Wincing at the dialogue straight out of a cheesy shoujo anime, I back away from him, doing what I do best.

Running away.

It was the best thing to do really. If I let this stupid dance go on, this would become an Osamu x blond idiot story, and that's gross. A ship that will never be built. A ship that would be shot down immediately and removed from everyone's minds forever if it made it to light of day. A ship that I regret even thinking. Ew.

So as previously mentioned, I run. Far far away to my apartment, where I fall onto my broken couch and just watch Korean dramas all day.

Nope. No school for me. What is this school you speak of?

...I'll deal with my problems tomorrow. That way, I'm relateable to the audience.

* * *

 **It's a bird! It's a plane! No, It's the first actual chapter of this fanfiction! Yay.**

 **Much writing, many effort. All the skill. (What do you mean that meme isn't being used anymore? It's hilarious; comedy gold)**

 **Shout out to all you people who've read and reviewed and favorited and followed my weird ass fanfiction because thanking every person is essential to keeping the target audience happy. Especially to you, one reader from Belgium. You _are_ essential to thank because how cool is it that people from other countries have decided to read this _horrific yet wonderful_ piece of writing that should have never left _my_ computer screen to come to all of _your_ computer screens.**

 **Anyways, I've noticed I don't have a disclaimer, so yeah. Disclaimer. "not mine", "If it was mine the second season of anime would have been announced a lot sooner", and my personal favorite "If I owned it would I really be sitting here in my parents office writing crappy fanfiction for it?"**

 **Also, shout out to long ass authors notes because let's be honest, reading my rambling is so much more fun then reading about Osamu's life. Even if he is Captain Super Stud, Master of Plans** ™ **.** **(God what am I doing with my life)**


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